


Force majeure

by Paper_Crane_Song



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_Crane_Song/pseuds/Paper_Crane_Song
Summary: Missing scene to season 2'sThe Crossing. In the wake of being possessed, Malcolm isn’t doing so well.





	Force majeure

**Author's Note:**

> I found this episode a bit disturbing, especially the scene in the armoury when Malcolm is trying to get away from the wisp. I thought I'd have a go exploring it all from Malcolm's point of view, how he may have felt about what happened, and his image of himself.
> 
> Thanks for reading this. I'd love to hear what you think.

“So where’d you go?” Trip said, smiling in expectation, placing his tray down opposite Malcolm.

“I’m sorry?”

“The wisp - where’d it send you?”

He blinked. “I don’t remember.”

Trip clicked his tongue, lost in memory. “Hopalong Cassidy, it was so real. Part of me didn’t want to come back, you know?” When Malcolm didn’t reply, he frowned. “You really don’t remember?”

Malcolm gave an apologetic half-shrug. “Fraid not.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” Trip began eating, whilst Malcolm moved his food around his tray. “And Tarpon Springs,” he continued between bites. “I’d forgotten how much I loved that place. First thing I’m gonna do when we get back to Earth is get a group together, head out on the water.....”

Trip’s voice faded into the background, giving Malcolm the space to settle back into his own thoughts. Picking at them, like a child picking at a scab.

Contrary to what he’d told Trip, he remembered.

He remembered being present, a party to what the wisp was doing. He remembered struggling. Caught under waves and unable to break through to the surface.

He remembered Crewman Socha in the lift. T’Pol.

His face grew warm.

He found both women attractive; perhaps the wisp was aware of these feelings and sought him out on purpose. Or was drawn to him like he was an antenna, drawn to emotions and passions that he usually kept concealed.

Maybe dark things were drawn to dark things.

“Malcolm?”

Trip was looking at him, really looking at him. “You okay?”

He stood up abruptly, fumbling with his tray to hide his consternation. “I’m fine, Commander - bit tired - everything that’s been going on - best be getting back -" and he left before Trip could stop him.

* * *

He tried to lose himself in his work. But as he looked over the weapons assembly, he realised for the first time how the Vulcans must see them; children playing at being grown-ups, with their toy phase pistols that were no match for any real strength.

So what was the bloody point?

But he maintained the façade of caring, and that in itself was wearying and unsavoury.

He couldn’t see a way out.

* * *

Trip finally cornered him in the armoury, keen to explore the properties of osmium, why it had repelled the wisps. “We could run some simulations?” Trip’s exuberance made his head ache.

“All right,” he said after a pause, trying to recall how the other Malcolm Reed would have responded. “It’s worth a try.”

But when the simulations revealed nothing, he could not bring himself to care very much. “I suppose that’s that, then.”

Trip shot him a sidelong glance from his console. “Didn’t think you’d give up so easily. I thought you’d be coating your torpedoes in osmium alloy by now, and draining power from life support to do it.”

He knew Trip was teasing him, and he tried not to get defensive. “Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour.”

“Whatever you say. Just doesn’t seem like you is all.”

He froze. “What do you mean?”

But when Trip spoke again, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “Let’s get something to eat.”

He gestured round the armoury, encompassing everything and nothing. “I should really - “

“Come on Malcolm, I’ve barely seen you for days. We don’t have to go to the mess hall, I’ve got a ton of leftovers in my quarters.”

Despite himself, his curiosity was piqued. “Leftovers from what?”

“You name it. Movie night when Travis ordered too much pizza. Yesterday when Chef made that noodle dish for dessert. Goes great in a sandwich.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

* * *

“So,” Trip said, reclining on the bunk with his plate.

“So,” Malcolm repeated, sitting in the chair nearest the door. He’d opted for a packet of emergency rations, the least likely item of food in Trip’s quarters to be a biohazard.

“Want to tell me what’s been going on with you lately?”

“I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”

“Ah!” Trip’s eyes gleamed in satisfaction. “So there is something.”

He didn’t respond.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Trip said lightly, “that’s your prerogative. I just... I thought we were friends.” He nodded to show there was no harm done, but beneath the smile Malcolm could see he was hurt.

He let out a sigh, succumbing to the inevitable. “Yes there’s something. Am I that obvious?”

A real smile. “To anyone who knows you. Ever since we encountered those wisps it’s like you’ve been sleepwalking.”

A jet of fear shot through him. Sleepwalking.

_Running. Struggling. “Humans don't like doing things without their consent.”_

“Malcolm?”

He realised he’d crumpled up the packet in his fist, and as he relaxed his grip the foil made a crinkling sound.

“Did you hear what I did when I was taken over by that wisp?”

Trip blushed slightly. “Just rumours - I didn’t - "

“After leering at Crewman Socha in the turbolift, I went to T’Pol’s quarters with the intention of having sex with her, forcibly if necessary.”

Trip’s mouth dropped open.

“It didn’t get that far, but it could have. And in answer to your previous question, I didn’t _go_ anywhere, there were no magical trips to Neverland for me, I was trapped in my body the entire time.” He stopped, aware he’d been raising his voice. After a moment he continued, quieter. “You know how I feel about T’Pol. The wisp must have identified my predilection for her, and I suspect that’s why it went to her quarters. Why it made me watch.”

He was too embarrassed to look at Trip, to see the effect of his words. And on the heels of the shame came a surge of anger. Why was he even telling him this? How could it help?

He was just about to stand when Trip said,

“Have you talked to T’Pol?”

He snorted in scorn. “No, aside from an apology. You know what she’s like. Although if it were anyone but her, I’d be inquiring about those Vulcan mental shields. I wouldn’t mind learning how to defend against non-corporeal attacks, especially since our weapons did sod all against them -“

“You know,” Trip said, slowly, carefully, “You’re talking about this like it’s your fault.”

He swallowed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

"Just because you’ve got the hots for T’Pol doesn’t mean you’re to blame because your wisp singled her out. Take me, for example - I don’t think she’s bad-looking. My wisp could’ve just as easily sent me knocking at her door, or to a dozen other quarters on this ship. But instead I got a -“ he waved his hand, “a ‘good’ wisp.”

“Or a hungry one.”

"What I’m saying is, yours took advantage of your feelings for T’Pol. But what happened wasn’t your fault. You’re just as much a victim as she was."

He shifted uncomfortably at the word, and Trip caught it. “Hey, we all were. After my wisp ate up half the mess hall I had the worst indigestion. I swear I went up a pants size.”

“But doesn’t that bother you though?” he said impatiently, leaning forward, disregarding Trip’s attempt to lighten the mood. “There was nothing we could do to prevent them. Our scanners, our weapons were all useless.”

“We stopped them in the end though, didn’t we?”

He let out a mirthless laugh. “No thanks to me.”

“Malcolm,” Trip shook his head in exasperation, “you’ve bailed us out plenty of times, and I’m sure you’ll get to do it again real soon. But it’s okay to rely on other people too. You’re the history buff - what’s that saying? “ _Together we stand_ -"

“It’s ' _united'_   _we stand,_ ” Malcolm corrected. “And _divided we fall._ Aesop, allegedly.”

“Well, however it goes. There’s a lot of strange stuff out here that could end up dividing us, and we can’t let it. We’ve got to stick together. Don’t go thinking you’re alone in this cause you’re not.”

“You didn’t happen to swallow a fortune cookie, did you?”

“Hey!” Trip threw a slice of pizza at him. “You know what I'm saying.”

“Yes. I know.”

“Well, good.” 

Into the space that followed, he ventured, “I keep dreaming about it.”

“I thought as much. You look like you haven’t slept for a week.”

He folded his arms irritably. “I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas?”

Trip shrugged. “It’ll pass.”

“Well thank you Counsellor Tucker, that’s a great help.”

“Hey, I never said I was a counsellor,” Trip held up his hands. “All I know is that it helps to talk about it, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“You said that already.”

“Well, I don’t think you believed me the first time.” Trip paused, rubbed his chin. "You know, Captain said the same thing to me last year, after I was hallucinating in those caves.”

“I remember that,” he said softly. He hadn’t known Trip very well back then, but he remembered being on the bridge, listening to the other man ranting over the comm system, his paranoia and distress.

“After I got back to Enterprise I couldn’t look anyone in the eye, least of all T’Pol. Never mind that it was the alien space pollen that made me crazy.”

“Tropolisine,” he said automatically.

“Whatever. The Captain saw me moping and we ended up in his quarters watching water polo, and we talked about what happened down there, and - “

“It helped.”

Trip nodded. “Yes. It helped.”

He contemplated on Trip's words for a while. ”Thanks.” 

Trip was watching him with affection, a hint of amusement there too. “Any time.”

And then he had a sudden thought. “Pass me that padd, would you?”

“The one with our simulations? Why?” Trip said, handing it to him.

“What you said earlier about coating the torpedoes in osmium gave me an idea.”

“You know I was just kidding about that, right?”

“Yes, but it got me thinking...” he got to his feet, still scanning the padd. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

  
_Finis_


End file.
